


Into the Sun

by muttonchopsandmandibles



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Control Ending, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttonchopsandmandibles/pseuds/muttonchopsandmandibles
Summary: She was silent for a moment, studying him.“I know,” he laughed. “You can say it. I look like crap.”“No, you don’t,” she said softly. “I was merely considering how much time has passed.”“You saying I’m old, T’Soni?”“Yes,” she said simply. “I believe you are.”
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	Into the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I can never bring myself to pick the control ending, but if I did, this story is my headcanon way to make it bearable.
> 
> I originally intended this to be a one-shot scene, but it ran away from me.
> 
> Long-time lurker, first-time poster. Un-beta'd work. In honor of N7 day, though, and thanks to the news that we're getting a Legendary edition, I felt the need to finally post this story, since it just wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> Comments & critiques appreciated! Will hopefully update at least every 1-2 weeks :)

Garrus hated hospitals.

As far as he was concerned, he’d spent too much of his life in medbays and sterile wards, first as a patient or a loved one, then – later – as a part of his duty. Every season he’d be found visiting the corridors of the perpetually broken, those who after the Reaper War would never walk or speak or even crap by themselves again, much less fight. Their sacrifices were written in their legions’ registers, and some were even fortunate enough to have a family member or two who had survived, but it had still been his responsibility to go. To listen as the same stories grew more tiresome to him with each passing year, and less and less revered with each new generation.

Even decades later, when the duty had long since become routine, the number of still-unidentifieds in their medical comas had made him wonder again if he’d done enough. If he could’ve pushed harder, maybe. If he could’ve changed anything.

Damn, but he hated hospitals. He’d certainly tried hard enough to ensure that he’d never be caught dying in one. And yet, here he was.

Of course, his room was nice and plush. A big vidscreen, all the mindless extranet entertainment he could want, anything from the (approved!) menu at any hour, and even a tiny tinkering table some sycophantic nurse had asked to be set up for him. Never mind that his talons had been shaking for years. He couldn’t even take an omni-tool apart anymore if he tried.

He hated that table. At least when the family visited, they always covered it up with little gifts and containers of homemade (and definitely un-approved) food they snuck in for him.

Right now, though, the table was empty. He felt like it was mocking him. His talons itched for something to do.

Dying of old age was excruciatingly _boring_. There was little left for him but his own head. And Spirits knew his own head was a dangerous thing at the best of times.

It was a nice day, at least. The weather was beautiful outside his window, with the silver-green glow of afternoon that promised a glorious sunset to come.

If only his own sunset was going to be as glorious. All the bullets he’d taken over the years, all the dangerous stunts and crazy missions, the damn _rocket_ , even two thwarted attempts at political assassination by isolationist terrorist groups – none of it had been enough, apparently. He was doomed to live a full life.

A small part of him hated that, too.

The regular afternoon nurse came in and turned on his vidscreen. He paid her no mind. The deep voice of one of the more popular newscasters started droning lowly in the background.

The nurse took a few steps closer to him, seemingly reluctant to leave.

“Primarch Vakarian, sir?”

“Not anymore, Vessi,” he said.

“Of course, sir.” She was crisp and professional and a perfect turian. He hated her a little bit for it.

“I, uh, turned on the news for you, sir.”

“Sure,” he said, as politely as he could manage. He was still staring out the window. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else right now?” she asked. Her subvocals rang with a tiny twang of nerves. He’d never known her to be nervous around him before. He turned and looked at her and was surprised at how close she’d gotten.

“No, I’m fine.” Hell, he even tried to smile. “Thanks, Vessi.”

“Of course, sir.”

_Of course, sir. Of course, sir. Right away, sir._ Damn but he’d gotten sick of hearing that over the years. Never did sound right.

“Maybe, um, sir.” She was definitely nervous. “Maybe there’s some good news today?”

“Sure,” he tried to smile again. “Why not?”

She nodded and left, thankfully. He went back to watching the tiny figures of the rest of the world outside his window.

**Again, today we can announce that the last of the**

At least there were no hulking black figures on the horizon anymore. It had taken years, but, thank the Spirits, they’d finished their mysteriously benevolent rebuilding and moved on from the Trebia system shortly before he was ascended to Primarch. He would never have been able to maintain any sort of diplomatic relations with those things. In fact, he’d flat out refused Victus when he asked Garrus for help parlaying with their newfound post-War allies.

Garrus had hoped such blatant refusal to follow orders would have knocked him down a peg or six, helped secure his place as _not_ the next Primarch in line.

Turns out Victus was just as bad a turian as he was.

**increasing frequency of these events in recent years**

He hadn’t bothered paying attention to the news for the past few years now. Not after Kinria had passed. Definitely not since Sol. The only updates that really mattered to him anymore were the exploits and arrivals of his numerous great-great grandchildren.

It was a little frightening, sometimes, when he thought of just _how many_ there were. The poor galaxy was doomed to have tiny pieces of him in it forever, it seemed.

**-pears to have chosen a system of no importance for the final**

Outside, it looked like some family had gotten bad news. Two larger and one smaller figure were pressed together, the taller ones’ heads bowed down low to reach the child’s. They were so distraught he could almost see them vibrating from his perch on the 27th floor.

Passersby were distinctly walking around them, giving the family a wide berth. He could imagine what they were thinking: _Take it somewhere private. The public walkway is no place for your grief_.

**colony was obliterated during the Reaper War, but has since been**

He’d never wish the War back on anyone. But it was shocking how quickly his people had forgotten. Life returned to normal, where bad things still happened to good people and the rest of the good people wanted nothing to do with it.

The Spirit of comradery almost every turian had found during the War was long gone. It made him wonder, sometimes, if it was even all worth it.

**will be analyzed by top experts, but we can safely now say**

The little family crept off together toward the skycar lot. A part of him ached for the ability he’d had as Primarch to just go up to a group like theirs, ask what he could do. Figure out what his people needed. Solve problems.

He’d had a very good teacher for that type of work, long ago.

It had been the best part of the job.

**-ther news, First Irune Bank is maintaining current interest rates for**

Maybe he should finally start going through the crate tucked up almost under his hospital bed. He’d been saving it. Some stupid romantic notion about saving his last look at those mementos for when he knew for sure it would be his last chance. Probably a bad idea anyway. He’d probably miss his chance if he waited too long. There wasn’t much else to do now, and he did miss his family. There were old holos in there he hadn’t seen in years, decades maybe.

Maybe he’d even get down to the small box at the bottom…

He’d started to reach for the crate when there was a gentle rap at the door. Vessi was back.

She turned the volume down to imperceptible on the vidscreen. Thankfully. Then awkwardly crept closer to him again.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

“Oh?” He perked up. Maybe Mysseni was bringing another contraband container of spiced paltun. He’d told her how much he loved it last time.

“How much time have we got? Visiting hours are almost over, aren’t they?”

Vessi’s mandibles flicked in a way he’d never seen from her before. She looked… _pitying_.

“As much time as you want, sir. We won’t worry about it today.”

_What the hell does that mean?_ She walked out without giving him any further clues, and he turned to see who was waiting in the doorway.

He’d been expecting the vivid brightness of pure blue markings on platinum plates that was his favorite granddaughter. She’d always been the beauty in the family – certainly didn’t get it from him.

To his surprise, it was another shade of blue beauty entirely that came through the door.

“Hello, Garrus,” she smiled at him. He instantly felt a hundred years younger.

“Liara,” he blinked. “This is a surprise.”

“Is it, though?” That all-knowing smirk hadn’t changed in a century. He doubted it ever would.

“A good one, of course,” he smiled. “Always nice to see a familiar face. It’s been too long, Liara.” He felt himself try to sit up straighter, tucking the useless blanket in his lap a little neater. “Sorry I, uh, haven’t been much up to visiting lately.”

“You’re more than excused, Garrus,” she said. She crossed the room and took a seat on the visitor’s chair across from him as though she’d done so a thousand times before. He’d almost forgotten how gracefully asari could move. “And the fault is mine. I haven’t made time for my old friends nearly as much as I should have.”

He noticed the datapad she was carrying. “Yeah, well, I can imagine there are a few things keeping you busy still,” he smirked right back. It’d been a while since he’d made that face. His mandibles were way too stiff, but it felt good.

“Quite,” she said. She was silent for a moment, studying him.

“I know,” he laughed. “You can say it. I look like crap.”

“No, you don’t,” she said softly. “I was merely considering how much time has passed.”

“You saying I’m old, T’Soni?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I believe you are.”

Well. That shut him up. He turned away and looked out the window again. At least his good side was toward her now.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right,” he admitted.

“Last time we saw each other was right after –“

“After Kinria’s memorial service, yeah. That was what, six years ago now?”

“Nine.”

He turned back to face her again. “Damn.”

“How have you been holding up, Garrus?”

Liara never was very good at hiding her patronizing face. Too bad he didn’t feel like calling her out on it anymore.

He thought for a moment. “I miss having someone around to talk to all the time. Or listen to, really. She did all the talking, you know.”

“I do know,” Liara smiled. “Never thought you’d end up with such a socialite and a chatterbox.”

He hummed noncommittally. “She wasn’t that way when we got married. That came afterwards. With the…promotion.”

“Is that right? What was she like when you first met her, then?”

Garrus was quiet for a long moment. “Alive.”

Liara nodded sagely. “I understand.”

“It was good, though. She actually enjoyed all those horrible political dinners. What’s the phrase? Rubbing elbows?”

“That’s a rare skill, you know,” she smiled.

“Yeah.” He was rapidly becoming uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “So how’s business?”

“Complicated.” She was cryptic as ever. “How’s your family?”

“Too damn big. I’ve got 22 great-great grandchildren now. Can you believe it?”

“I can.” She went quiet again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for your sister.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was quick.” He slashed a shaking, crinkled hand in front of his keel, trying to get her to change the subject.

Liara didn’t answer.

“So, not that it isn’t great to see you, but are you just here to make fun of an old man? Or maybe to check me off your to-do list? _‘Visited old Vakarian one last time before he croaked. Check.’_ Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Liara smiled a bit. “But not entirely.” She turned and glanced behind her where the vidscreen was now broadcasting the grand opening of some impressive new building. “Have you been paying attention to the news today?”

He frowned. “Not really. The nurse turned it on, but I wasn’t watching it.”

“You weren’t watching it,” she repeated. “Why am I not surprised?” At least she sounded more amused than angry with him, though why she’d be angry, he had no idea.

He shrugged, though he really shouldn’t have. His shoulders were too old for that.

“Can’t find it in me to care about the news anymore, you know?”

“I understand. But,” she paused a moment, “I do wish you’d been watching today.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

__

“Yes,” she said plainly. Her eyes were boring into his and it made him slightly uncomfortable.

__

“Alright,” he drawled. “What was it, then?”

__

She sighed, looked down at her datapad, then back up at him. “I didn’t want to be the one to break this to you.”

“Just say it, Liara. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll give me a coronary?”

“Don’t joke, Garrus.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No, it’s…” she paused. “I think you’ll find it good, actually.”

Vessi’s words from earlier came back to him. _“Maybe there’s some good news today?”_ Did the rest of the galaxy know already?

__

“Liara. Tell me.” It was the closest his voice had gotten to a command in…hell, in years.

__

Liara steeled herself and looked him straight in the eye. “They’re gone, Garrus. They’re finally gone. The last one flew into the sun two days ago.”

__

He blinked once, twice. “What?”

__

“The last Reaper flew into a star two days ago. Just like they’ve been doing one at a time for the past 50 years. Only now, it’s the last one. They’re finally gone.”

__

Garrus didn’t know what to say to that. He turned his head, an arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck before remembering that arm didn’t bend quite that way anymore. He sighed, let if fall and forced himself to face her again.

__

“Well, damn. I knew they’ve been doing that, but I never thought I’d live to see the end of it.” He could feel his mandibles twitching and he didn’t like it one bit. “I mean, there were a lot of them.”

__

“Yes, there were,” she said. “It’s been happening more frequently in the past few years. We don’t really know why.”

__

“I guess the galaxy’s all put back together now, huh?”

__

“It would appear so.”

__

He paused. “You’re sure it was the last one?”

__

“Absolutely.”

__

“How?”

__

She pursed her lips together a moment. He tried not to think how long it’d been since he’d seen an expression made by lips.

__

“What we got this time was…different.”

__

“So you’re still receiving the, uh…”

__

“The data dumps, as the humans call them? Yes.”

__

“This last one, too?”

__

“Yes.” She paused. “This was the largest broadcast yet.”

__

“Really?” He tried to smile. “Well, I guess you can finish your museum now. Imagine it: all the information about every race the Reapers ever obliterated. You’re living the archaeologist’s dream, T’Soni.”

__

“Oh, that will take many more years, I assure you.” She looked down at the datapad in her hands. “Probably the rest of my life. There’s quite a bit to sort through still. Though the geth are helping tremendously with filtering the data.”

__

“Yeah. I’ll bet. What species was it this time? Something with twelve legs and five eyes that could only see in the dark?”

__

“Hmm,” she chuckled a bit. “Close. It was the Leviathans.”

__

Garrus could hear his subvocals stuttering with shock. He was just grateful Liara couldn’t hear it as well.

__

“Wow. Huh.” He chewed over his words for a moment. “What all did it say?”

__

She looked sideways at him for a moment. “From what we can tell so far, it’s a detailed study of all their weaknesses, from physical to psychological. A battle plan for how to defeat them, should they ever decide to rise up, now that the Reapers are gone.”

__

“That…seems very specific,” he mused. “You expecting a war?”

__

“Not me. Not now. But if there ever is one, future generations will be prepared. I’ll make sure of that.” She looked thoughtful. “Actually, Harbinger made sure of that.”

__

He blinked. Hard. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” he muttered. “That was the last one?”

__

“Yes.”

__

“And it gave us all this information about the Leviathans, then just…committed suicide?”

__

“So it would seem,” she said. “I know you’ve never really trusted them, since the end of the War.”

__

“No,” he said simply. “I’m surprised you do.”

__

“I don’t. Or didn’t.”

__

Garrus glared at her. It was not as effective as it used to be.

__

“I don’t trust them as Reapers. I trust whatever made them stop attacking. Whatever it was the Crucible did. I can trust that.”

__

“Can you, really? Even after all this time –”

__

“Yes, Garrus. Especially after all this time. Think about it. The information on the Leviathans was clearly compiled on purpose, by something intelligent enough to know the galaxy might one day need it.”

__

“What the hell are you trying to say, Liara?”

__

“That whatever they were, whatever Harbinger was, they aren’t, they weren’t anymore. Not at the end.”

__

The uncomfortable silence was back. Garrus went back to staring out the window again. He was starting to wonder how long he would have to wait before he could politely ask her to leave him in peace now.

__

“Would you like to see it?” she asked suddenly.

__

“See what?”

__

“There’s footage. Of the Reaper – of Harbinger – well, dying, I suppose.”

__

“Someone recorded it?”

__

“Yes. The Hierarchy did.”

__

“I’m sorry, what?” His mandibles were twitching full force now. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

__

“I don’t expect you would have. It was kept very quiet.”

__

“Liara.” He rubbed his forehead plate, despite the ache in his shoulder. “Would you please just stop being cryptic?”

__

“It asked for an escort.”

__

He just stared at her.

__

“The Reaper – Harbinger – asked to be accompanied. The _THS Victorious_ and _Theronidae_ both responded.” She paused. “It specifically requested an escort with the updated Thanix cannons – weapons big enough to take it out, just in case.”

__

“In case of what? In case it veered off course? Didn’t go crashing into the sun after all?”

__

“I think…in case whatever has been telling them all to do this suddenly got – what’s the phrase? – cold feet?”

__

“Never really understood that phrase,” Garrus muttered. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “And what do you mean _‘whatever has been telling them to do this’_?

__

Liara just sighed. “You know my theory, Garrus.”

__

“Yeah, and I’ve never liked it.”

__

She sighed again, like he was a child being difficult. Trust an asari to make even a withered old man like himself feel like a flailing youngster.

__

“I think you should watch it,” she said. She started typing away on her omni-tool.

__

“I don’t get a choice in this, do I?” he asked.

__

“No,” she said plainly. “You don’t.”

__

Before he knew what was happening, the news broadcast had disappeared, and something new was loaded on his vidscreen. He thought it better not to ask how Liara was able to do that so quickly.

__

It wasn’t much, honestly. He’d watched hundreds of Hierarchy ship security videos in his time. There was the Reaper – he wouldn’t have known it was Harbinger if she hadn’t told him, but now that he did…he shuddered a bit, even now. It loomed in view just as large and unnatural as ever. As he watched, though, the creature slowly floated away through the black, toward a plain yellow star in the background. The ship followed along as far as it could, staying outside the worst of the star’s radiation, then the camera zoomed in until Harbinger was just a shrinking dot against a background of plasma.

__

It was a strangely quiet ending, considering the history of blood and damage and despair that Harbinger had left behind over however many millions, billions of years.

__

All things considered, it was easier to watch than he’d expected it to be.

__

“Where was this?” he asked after the feed cut out. “Earth? The Sol system?”

__

“No.”

__

He didn’t want to ask. He really didn’t.

__

“It was the Baldr system.”

__

That surprised him. “I’ve never even heard of that one.”

__

“Few people have.” She gestured toward the vidscreen. “The news was even calling it ‘a system of little importance.’ Maybe it’s better that way.” Her voice turned somber.

__

His damn curiosity was going to kill him.

__

“Is there even anything there?”

__

“Yes. One colony.”

__

He forced himself to ask, though he could hear his own voice starting to fray. “Which colony, Liara?”

__

She met his eyes again. He knew what was coming.

__

“Mindoir.”

__

The silence between them went on a long time.

__

“Don’t say it.”

__

“I wasn’t going to.”

__

So, that’s the tone she was going for. Friendly, but not comfortable. He hated it.

__

“I told you the broadcast was different this time,” Liara started again. He could hear the steel in her voice. She still thought he needed to hear this. “But it was more than that. It wasn’t just more information, Garrus. There were messages.”

__

“Messages,” he repeated, dumbly.

__

“Quite a few of them. Addressed to very specific people, most of whom are dead now, unfortunately. One was for Wrex. One for Grunt. I got one, too.

__

“But this one,” she picked up the datapad, “was the largest file of them all.” She turned the datapad around and placed it carefully in his lap. “This one was for you.”

__

He didn’t respond. He found that he was suddenly incapable of doing anything beyond staring at the flimsy piece of technology balancing precariously on his shriveled thighs.

__

“It’s a video.”

__

His head shot up at that.

__

“A video?” He heard his own voice come out thin and needy, and he _hated_ it.

__

“It’s not much to look at, but yes, there is video.”

__

“You watched it.” He hated how possessive he sounded.

__

“Only the first few moments,” she reassured him. “Just long enough to confirm what it was. I didn’t watch the whole thing.”

__

“Right.” He stared at the datapad. He didn’t know if he wanted to grab onto it and never let go or hurl it out the window and watch it shatter on the pavement below.

__

His talons itched suddenly for the familiarity of a rifle, despite the fact he hadn’t held one in decades. If he could still shoot, a small part of him would have wanted to use the damn datapad as target practice. He knew would hate himself for it, though. And not in the kind of way he could forgive.

__

Liara, thankfully, stayed silent. She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

__

“What…” he heard himself muttering. “What do you…think it…it’s going to say?”

__

“Garrus,” she said softly. Too damn softly. He couldn’t look at her. “I don’t need to see it to know what it’s going to say.”

__

She reached out and covered one of his hands with hers. “And neither do you.”

__

He wished she wouldn’t touch him. Her hand was too much. Too many fingers. Too close. But he couldn’t push her away.

__

“The choice is yours.”

__

“I know.” He wasn’t sure why he said it.

__

“This is the only copy, by the way. I’ve made sure of that.”

__

“Yeah.” It was getting harder to breathe. To speak. “Thanks.”

__

Liara went quiet and slowly removed her hand. He still couldn’t look at her.

__

“I’m sorry, Garrus. You deserved… Well, you deserve to know.”

__

He felt himself nod, once.

__

“Would you prefer to be left alone?”

__

Another nod.

__

He heard her get up, vaguely aware that her knees were no longer in his peripheral vision.

__

“I’ll be staying at the Serusian Plaza Hotel for a few days. I’ll just be one street over from you. In case you want to…talk. Or whatever you need, Garrus.”

__

“Alright,” he tried to say. It came out like a whisper. He hated it.

__

He could hear Liara’s light footsteps moving away. He felt suddenly, terribly alone.

__

“Please don’t hesitate to call. For anything,” he heard her say. 

__

Another nod.

__

“For the record,” she said, a bit louder. Sounded like she was near the door. “I don’t regret it. Watching mine. I’m glad I did. It was…” She paused a moment. Too long a moment. “It was good.” There was a finality to that word that made his mandibles twitch.

__

“You were right,” he said down to the datapad. His voice was ragged and his subvocals were seemingly broadcasting every emotion at once.

__

“This whole time. I didn’t want to believe it.”

__

She didn’t answer. He wondered if she was gone.

__

Until her soft voice carried across the room one last time.

__

“Neither did I.”

__

The door opened, closed.

__

Outside, the sun was setting. He could feel the warmth of Trebia’s long rays through the window, the radiation caressing his faded scars like too many soft, warm fingers. The sunset was probably as beautiful as they come on Palaven. He couldn’t make himself look at it.

__

By the time he was able to look up again, it was deep night, and he had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Not too sure about the canon accuracy of the Baldr system. Found it somewhere online, but I think it's an EU-type deal. If anyone knows anything different, please correct me!


End file.
